


Stay

by Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492



Series: Aguilar de Nera x Maria Fics [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Character Death, F/M, Grieving, Mentor/Novice, The Spanish Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492/pseuds/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492
Summary: Anon Tumblr Prompt: Maria helping Aguilar with his grief over his parents death





	Stay

_There are days when he is not there-_

 

_The Headquarters of the Brotherhood melts away, and instead of awakening in his bedchambers near Maria's study he finds himself elsewhere. He knows where he is because the sun shines down through sand-stained cloth and when he inhales the air around him he smells of earth and pressed soap._

_It's always like this, because he finds himself on a bed made of straw that is compacted into the ground. Not the bed made of polished wood and feathers that greets him after Maria beats him in training. Leaving this small moment as a moment that burns his senses as he opens his eyes._

_The woman next to him has the same tanned skin as his own, with hair the color of mud after a spring rain, and eyes that are just the same. A woman, that is dressed as every other villager in Nerha, as a small baby rest against her chest. His wife. His son. Sleeping peacefully beside him as another day begins._

_Faces, names, and scents that pull him into what was once before._

_A memory that if he looks close enough begins to fade around the edges more and more._

 

 

 

_Then there are days when he remembers-_

_His sister with a deep wound in her side, dressed in clothing he had never seen before, as a fever begins to take over her body. The reddish brown strands of hair sticking to her face, as those same dark eyes look at him with what appears to be fear. She reaches-her finger removed for what had only had to be a day or to ago judging by the scabbing-and he wants to cry to his parents. Though she chokes before anything can be said and that last gasp of air is all she gives him in the end._

_His wife is next as she is dragged away by soldiers from Castle, though others are being dragged with her, he still follows. Heretic. Heretic. Heretic. A marriage not out of love, but still care was ending as they pulled her onto the platform. Sending two soldiers up with her to pick her up and drop her down onto the pointed spike. Leaving behind the corpse with the chipped pole embedding itself through her stomach and out of her mouth. Tears staining her pale face as he tucks his crying son against his chest._

_His parents are last, burning on stakes as flames ignite against the oil covering their bodies. Burned by Ojeda-and by extent Torquemada as the Inquisition finally destroys Nerha. Leaving him with nothing but rage and hate, teasing his mind with acts of revenge, as the night consumes the embers that remain. Embers and smoke that assault him for his stay until he is pulled from his spot against the wooden stage by hooded figures._

 

 

 

_Then there are days when it haunts him-_

_His parents death burns into him just as much as his eldest sisters and wife had._

_Digging into him, because now he is an Assassin like them and that means being around people who had known them. People who say that he looks just like his father with his odd reddish-brown hair. People who gaze into his eyes and speak of his mother having exact ones. People who look at him and say that his parents would have been proud. Then there are others who whisper harshly that if they had kept him out of the knowledge of their work then there must have been a reason why._

_Until it all builds up to him throwing himself away into Maria's study. Reading through the many books and scrolls that her family had taken from Maysaf centuries ago. To the hidden blades that she is making, sitting gently on her desk admist all of the tools. Then there are the moments when she is with him and he drinks from her very lips. Almost afraid to touch her skin for if the Brotherhood ever found out-if Bennedicto ever found out-then they would be seperated if not worse._

_Though this time he simply sits against the edge of the balcony. Maria's skillful fingers tugging and pulling gently against his scalp as she braids it away from his face. Her own marked with pure consentration upon the task until those vivid blue eyes-eyes that he had never seen before Maria-narrow upon him._

_A small moment, that is possibly one of the most important ones, because even if words are not exchanged they know what the other wants to say. And perhaps that is what he truly needs whenever he must mourn._

_He needs his mentor, his friend, his beloved in many ways, to stay even if death could take her from him at any moment._

 

 

 

_"I miss them."_


End file.
